


You always say that

by Khashana



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Parse negative, dub-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 17:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12137508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khashana/pseuds/Khashana
Summary: MIND THE TAGS.Jack's evolving relationship with Kent.





	You always say that

**Author's Note:**

> I love Parse, okay? I love BPD Kent, I love Parse redemption arcs, but there aren't a lot of fics where Kent was abusive to Jack, and everything we see him say in canon is _textbook_ abuse dialogue. And I need those fics to exist too.

“Some guys are going to a party tonight. Want to come?”

“Euh, no thanks.”

“C’mon, Zimms. I miss you.”

“It has been literally a day, Kenny.”

“Soooo…?” Jack could _hear_ the shit-eating grin on Kent’s face.

 

“…Fine. Just for a little while.”

~

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Leave me alone.”

Jack’s hands were shaking too hard to open the bottle. Kent ignored his words, reached out and took it from him, reading the label.

“Xanax? What do you have to be nervous about, Zimms?” But he opened it and poured two pills out, handing them to Jack. The dosage was one, but Jack was in no state to argue. He leaned over the bathroom sink, cupped his hand under the faucet, and drank, tossing his head back to swallow the pills. Sitting back down on the floor, he made to hide his face in his knees, but Kent tugged him gently over to rest his head in his lap, carding a hand through his hair. They were silent until the drugs kicked in and Jack was able to sit up without shaking. One Xanax took the edge off, calmed him out of a panic attack, but two? Jack felt _normal_. The panic was completely gone.  
“What would people say if they saw Bad Bob Zimmermann’s son losing it on a bathroom floor ‘cause he’s too scared to function without drugs?” Jack glared at him, but Kent looked unabashed. “Just sayin’, Zimms. Can’t let this get out. Good thing you got me. _I_ still want you.”

  
~

“We better get traded to the same team quick. We’re never gonna play hockey like this with anyone else.” Kent collapsed on the locker room floor and began pulling his gear off.

“Do you ever wonder…” Jack sat down next to him and lowered his voice so none of their teammates, carousing on the high of the win, could hear. “Whether we’re any good alone? Good enough to go pro?”

“I don’t,” said Kent, looking at him funny. “I know I’m good enough.”

“…And me?”

“Well, I dunno, Zimms, I’ve never seen you play without being there, have I? You gotta figure that out for yourself.”

  
~

“Zimms! Let’s go to the beach! C’mon, I miss you!”

Jack only laughed, used to it by now, and agreed. They spent the day alternating between swimming and lazily making out in the sand. Kent surprised Jack by buying him an ice cream cone.

  
~

“You’re so _fucking_ stupid, Zimms, what possessed you to let him get the puck from you like that?” Kent sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up like a blonde sea urchin.

Jack’s half-formed thoughts told him that couldn’t be right, but he couldn’t articulate why.

Kent whipped around and the grin was back in place. “And somehow, I still love you.” He crossed the room and kissed Jack deeply. Jack kissed back, relieved that Kent didn’t seem to be mad anymore. He reached down and unbuckled Kent’s jeans without looking. They were seventeen and both hard already.

“Let me suck you,” he gasped when they parted for air. Kent grinned at him and pulled his dick out. Jack dropped to his knees and wrapped his lips around it. Soon enough Kent was gasping and shaking with want.

“All right, Zimms, I forgive you,” he moaned, and came. It splashed over Jack’s face, and Kent groaned. He sat back down on the bed and tucked himself back in, but didn’t pull up the zipper. “I wanna watch you touch yourself,” he told Jack. “Want to watch you come all over yourself.” Jack pulled his pants down, sat down on his heels and began to jerk off, using some of Kent’s come as lube. Kent watched him greedily, eyes following the motion of Jack’s hand, and when Jack came on his own jeans, he gave a low groan of approval.

“Well, if it turns out you’re not as good at hockey without me, you can come be my personal sex slave. I’m just kidding!” he added at the look on Jack’s face. “Geez, you take everything so personally. Stop being so serious. This is why I’m the only one who really likes you.”

  
~

Even two Xanax wasn’t doing it for the Memorial Cup game, so Jack took three. He scored the game-winner and Parse screamed, “YOU GO, JACK! THAT’S MY GUY!” until he was hoarse.

  
~

The night before the draft, Jack couldn’t sleep. He took two Xanax and paced the room, _what if_ s swirling through his head. _What if he’s no good without Kent on his wing? What if his new team hate him? What if he gets there and he cracks under the pressure and shames his father?_ He took a third Xanax when the two failed to make a noticeable difference. _What if he didn’t go first and his dad was disappointed?_ No, that doesn’t make sense, he told himself, only one person can be first overall, his dad was third overall, but the voice wouldn’t shut up and he took a fourth Xanax and curled up on the bathroom floor with his head on his knees. Fuck, he was getting dizzy. He hadn’t had a panic attack bad enough to pass out since before he’d gotten the medication. He swallowed a fifth, too far gone to wonder if the dizziness was actually the anxiety or in fact the medication, and that was the last thing he remembered before he woke up in the hospital.

His mother was holding his hand when he blinked and emitted a groan. His throat was killing him.

“Hey, honey,” she said, looking at him with concern. Purple bags had formed under her eyes. “Do you know where you are?”

He shook his head.

“You’re in the hospital.”

“Why?” croaked Jack. He swallowed and tried again. “I can’t be in the hospital. I need to go to the draft.”

His mother’s face twisted up, and she passed him the sports section of the local newspaper.

TOP PROSPECT LEAVES DRAFT, read the headline. Jack scanned the article.

“In a shocking twist of events, Jack Zimmermann dropped out of the NHL draft at the last minute for undisclosed reasons, leaving the Las Vegas Aces with the easy choice of Kent Parson.”

There was a photo of Kent in an Aces jersey, with a painted-on smile. The date on the paper was the day of the draft. He had missed it.

Jack’s eyes welled up with tears so he couldn’t read the rest of the article. He raised a hand to scrub at his eyes, and noticed for the first time both his parents standing by the window, giving him some privacy. He hadn’t even realized his father was in the room.

“What happened?” he managed after a few seconds. He thought back to the last thing he could remember. It was the night before. He couldn’t sleep. He’d taken more than the usual amount of meds…A chill ran down his spine, and his father confirmed his theory without turning around.

“You overdosed on your Xanax, Jack. You had to have your stomach pumped.”

  
~

Dr. Nolan looked at Jack with concern.

“Jack,” she said carefully, “it sounds to me like Kent used your weaknesses to manipulate you. Does that sound accurate?”

“That can’t,” started Jack, and stopped. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

  
~

He was only days out of rehab when Parse called.

“Zimms! How are you doing, man?”

“Better,” said Jack.

“You really fucked that one up.”

Jack grunted.

“Just saying it like it is, man, no offense. Hey, I’ve got a free weekend at the end of the month. I was thinking to fly up and visit. How’s that sound?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” started Jack.

“Aw, c’mon, Zimms. Don’t you miss me? I miss you.”

“…Okay.”

  
~

“It’s like I can’t say no to him,” said Jack. “He just starts talking and everything I had to say is just gone.”

“Would it help to write it down?” asked Dr. Nolan.

Jack sent Parse an email saying he was still recovering and needed some space.

_Fuck, Zimms. Okay._

  
~

“Why don’t you have Kent down to visit?” suggested his mother.

“Dr. Nolan doesn’t think he’s good for me,” said Jack, not quite ready to say _I don’t think he’s good for me_.

“He’s such a sweet boy, though! He sends me emails about how worried he is and how much he loves you.”

“He’s always nice to me where other people can see,” said Jack.

“What does that mean?”

Jack didn’t answer.

  
~

“PARSON! CONGRATS ON THE CUP!”

“Thanks,” said Kent, ducking his head to hide a grin. “It’s really a team effort.”

“Ah, you don’t need to give us the media soundbite, man!” said Shitty. “You’re the top scorer in the league, never mind the fucking Aces. Can I get a selfie, dude?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” said Kent, and posed.

When he caught up with Jack, Jack had his whole speech ready to go.

“You need to leave, Parse. I didn’t ask you to come.”

“ _Dude,_ ” said Shitty. Kent looked hurt.

“Can’t a guy visit his bro? I missed you, all right?”

“I can’t do this with you,” said Jack. “Please leave me alone.”

“Okay, fine, whatever,” said Parse, and walked away visibly downcast. Jack wanted to run after him and shake him. He almost wished Parse would ignore him and keep talking so Shitty would come back him up.

  
~

Dr. Nolan told him that people in healthy relationships didn’t have nightmares about each other.

  
~

“Jack Zimmermann. At a party. Taking a selfie.” Jack’s blood ran cold and he looked towards the voice.

“Kent.”

“Oh my gosh!” said Bitty.

“Hey, Zimms. Didja miss me?”

“You’re Kent Parson!” said Bitty.

“You wanna selfie?” asked Parse, cracking a grin.

“Yes, _please,_ ” said Bitty, and Jack slipped away as they posed together. He hid out in his room, scrolling through Parse’s Twitter mentions out of a desperate sense that he couldn’t be caught out if he knew what Parse was doing. He noticed for the first time how Parse’s face transformed with each person he took a photo with. He was serious with Lardo, giggly and young-looking with Ransom and Holster, sexy with March and April. The shit-eating grin made an appearance with some of the other athletes. It was like he was playing the part that each person would relate to most.

It still didn’t prepare him when Kent opened his door.

“There you fucking are.”

“What do you want, Parse?” asked Jack tiredly.

“What do I want? Can’t I just want to see you?” He sat down on Jack’s desk and leaned into his space. He kissed Jack, and Jack let him.

“So. You’re signing soon. I heard you were in talks with the Falconers.”

“I don’t know where I’m signing yet,” said Jack. It was the official media line, and Parse knew it.

“You mean you have no clue?” he asked sarcastically.

“I mean…It could be Montreal, it could be L.A., okay? I don’t know.”

“…what about Las Vegas?”

_No,_ thought Jack, _that might kill me_ , but damned if he could tell Parse that.

“I…I don’t _know_ , okay?”

Kent slid off the desk into his lap.

“Parse--”

And kissed him. Jack, despite his misgivings, kissed back. Kent was good at it, had been for a long time, and, more than that, he was _familiar_. Finally, Jack wrenched his head away.

“Kenny. I can’t do this.”

“Jack, _come on._ ”

“No, I—um…” Kent stood up and began to pace. “Kenny--”

“Zimms, just fucking stop thinking for once and listen to me. I’ll tell the GMs you’re on board and they can free up cap space. Then you can be done with this shitty team. You and me--”

_No._

“Get out.”

“Jack.”

And the words came, the words that had been building for years.

“You can’t—you don’t come to my _fucking school unannounced_ \--”

“Because you shut me out--”

“—and corner me in my room--”

“—I’m trying to help--”

“—And expect me to do whatever you want—“

“ _Fuck,_ Jack!” Kent ripped off his snapback and ran his free hand through his hair. “What do you want me to say? That I miss you? _I miss you, ok?_ …I miss you.”

And he was waiting, waiting for Jack to capitulate like he always did. So Jack did something else.

“…You always say that.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr](http://www.khashanakalashtar.tumblr.com)


End file.
